


Burning Out

by Airmid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airmid/pseuds/Airmid
Summary: He already knew with how far in they were someone wasn’t getting out of this alive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Between "Dark Side of the Moon" and "99 Problems"

Dean scuffed his boots into the dirt caked cement, the smell of garbage the most tangible thing out here in the bitter sting of late frost. Breath in little puffs as the rough wall behind him snagged on his too thin shirt, catching the fabric and pressing into him viciously as he leaned back. It was good though, alive, the thrum of whiskey in his belly, his skin flushing from the chill. He twirled his scored smoke in his fingers before freeing his lighter.

“I don’t know why you insist on doing that.”

He shook his head not bothering to look over as he lit it. “I’ll take your confusion under advisement, _dad._ ”

A body was leaning up against the wall as he exhaled, the rush he hadn’t felt in months in his lungs. He offered it to the waiting hand next to him, the minute wrinkles and small muscle flexes underlying the uncertainty as his actions were copied.

“That still seems rather unpleasant,” was the given verdict though Dean did note that he wasn’t getting his fucking cigarette back as another drag was taken.

“Don’t smoke it all sparky,” he griped managing to free it a few seconds later and bring it safely back into his possession. “Geez for not liking it you sure are a hog.”

There was a rumble, that low dark laugh still strange to hear. “You can always get more Dean.”

“Well, you could always snap up your own.” He watched that mouth twitch into something that was close to a sneer. Everything was bathed in orange security light gloom but somehow it made that face sharper, those eyes darker. That impossible thing rolled its head back to look up to the sky peeking out of a narrow shaft between the buildings.

“You have me there.”

Sammy would be coming to find him soon and they’d move on. Away from this small town and into another then another chasing after monsters when the whole world was about to be eaten anyways. It was so damn pointless. Maybe it always had been.

The angel was stealing back the cigarette more than likely because he had lost track and it was burning without use. Something about watching it being pressed against that borrowed mouth as the heat in his belly grew wider. Unneeded breath pushing out all the smoke.

“You can if you want,” came the words before that head ducked down, a smoky mouth was on his cold from the air. A tongue licked across his, then his lips as they drew apart and he managed to make his body not start rutting mindlessly.

“You can still walk away,” Dean told him, those partially hooded eyes took on a whole new shade of grief. “I mean, fuck it. He doesn’t care about any of us.”

A hand was on his throat, fingers dancing over where his pulse panted from the adrenaline and nicotine and Dean tried not to think about all the things he wanted right in that moment.

He already knew with how far in they were someone wasn’t getting out of this alive.

“You’ll hate me more soon.”

“Why? You aren’t planning to drag one of us off are you?” and he felt the edge, the desperate bleed that he couldn’t let that happen to Sam.

"No, just to spare you a little.” That hand curving around his neck like a brand.

“Whatever you’re cooking I’m not worth it, I’m –“

A cheek pressed against his, ice and fire licked across his ear. “Someone should love you.”

“Dean?”

Christ he was alone and it was Sam poking his head out the emergency exit, his face all scrunched up in worry. “You’ve been gone a while. Thought you wanted to get going soon.”

“Yeah Sammy,” he let out, shaking even if his voice was straight and clear. “I’ll be right in.”

“K.” Another look, that worry that he was out here screaming yes and he tried not to laugh as the door shut. The angel from his dreams had been here in borrowed flesh and blood, his body remembering the smooth burning line pressed into him, need always open. A call he couldn’t, wouldn’t answer.

He looked down, finding the cigarette burned out between his fingers. Pushing it into his pocket he shoved himself off the wall and went to go collect his baby brother. Someone had to keep walking till the road ran out. It might as well be him.


End file.
